


Turning the Page

by enigmaticagentscully



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2020-06-29 21:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19838539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticagentscully/pseuds/enigmaticagentscully
Summary: Since her husband’s death, Abby Griffin has been lost. Having walked away from her successful career as a doctor, and feeling the close bond she used to have with her daughter slip through her fingers day by day, she has resigned herself to a life of quiet loneliness.But Abby might have a second shot at happiness after all, when she discovers by chance a charming coffee shop just round the corner from the public library where she now works, and meets the equally charming owner; Marcus Kane. But as romance blossoms between Marcus and Abby – aided and abetted by their nosy but well meaning colleagues – ghosts from their pasts threaten their new found happiness, and events in the present seem determined to tear them apart...Featuring: Flirting! Family drama! Moving On From Grief! Abby Griffin’s Favourite Jane Austen Character! Everyone Is Alive In This AU! Suspiciously Specific Knowledge Of The Inner Workings Of Public Libraries! Unhygienic Behaviour On Countertops! Diana Sydney Is The Worst Person To Have In Your Bookgroup!





	1. Chapter 1

In truth, Abby only went in because Starbucks was closed.

Arkadia coffee was only a couple of minutes walk from the library where she worked now – just around the corner really – but she had never set foot inside. It was the sort of place that was small enough to be easily overlooked, but not small enough to be quaint, sandwiched between a thrift store and what appeared to be a dentist. It was generally uninspiring in every respect, though someone had put a couple of hanging baskets out the front, presumably in an effort to brighten up the dreary frontage. It didn’t really help.

But the sign outside said ‘Arkadia Coffee House’ and that was good enough for Abby. After a long morning wrangling with customers, cursing the crappy library wifi, and trying to snatch a few moments to finish her book for the book club meeting she was supposed to be running in the evening, she needed coffee just to make it until 5pm. Abby had decided to take the fact that the local Starbucks was boarded up with a hastily printed sign that said something about being closed for urgent renovations as still more evidence that she should just have stayed in bed that morning.

It had _not_ been her day.

Still, Arkadia Coffee House was at least clean and welcoming when she stepped inside. In fact, it was kind of nice, much nicer than it looked from outside. There were a few tables with slightly mis-matched chairs that, along with the brightly coloured checked curtains on the front windows, gave the place an almost English tea shop kind of feel. The art on the walls was a little eclectic, but more interesting than the mass produced prints in Starbucks, and there were a few of what looked like actual living pot plants scattered about the room. The warm, rich smell of coffee filled the air and Abby breathed deeply, letting the calm atmosphere soothe her frazzled nerves for a moment.

There were a few customers sitting at the tables – a trio of teenage girls deep in gossipy conversation, and one old man frowning at a crossword – but there was no queue at the counter, and the tall young man standing behind it in a brown apron smiled at her as she approached. He had a mop of curly brown hair and a professionally cheerful air.

“Good morning,” he said. “Welcome to Arkadia. What can I get you?”

“Can I just get a regular latte to go please?” said Abby absently, still a little distracted by her surroundings. “Oh, I mean Venti. Wait, that’s the bigger one, sorry...I mean Grande.”

The boy behind the counter grinned. “It’s okay, you can just say ‘regular’ here,” he said. “I won’t tell Starbucks when they re-open.”

Abby gave a self conscious smile, a little embarrassed at how obvious she apparently was. The boy didn’t look offended though; rather he was suddenly regarding her with an almost appraising expression.

“I haven’t seen you before, have I?” he said.

Abby blinked at him, slightly thrown. He was about twenty years too young to be making a pass at her, and she was pretty sure she didn’t recognise _him_. Perhaps he was one of Clarke’s old friends from school? Her mind reeled quickly through the list of possibilities, until she realised the guy was wearing a nametag that said ‘Bellamy’ on it, and she was damn sure she would have remembered that name if she had ever heard it before.

“No...” she said cautiously. “It’s my first time in here, anyway.”

To her surprise, Bellamy half turned and yelled over his shoulder through a half-open door behind the counter: “New customer, Kane! That’s one more point to me!”

“Right!” came a man’s voice from out back. “Did they know we were here?”

Bellamy turned to Abby with an expectant expression. “Did you?” he said.

“I’m sorry, did I...what?”

“Did you know we were here, before you came in?” said the voice from out back, and an older man appeared, wiping his hands on a towel. “We’ve had a lot of people in who say _‘I didn’t even know you were here!_ ’ so now it’s worth an extra point.”

“We call it Starbucks Blindness,” said Bellamy. “Kane has this theory that the presence of a Starbucks on a street makes any other coffee shop in a mile radius invisible to the general public.”

“It helps me sleep at night,” said the man, and tossed the towel casually over his shoulder. He looked about her age, with dark hair and a neat beard threaded with grey. “I’m Marcus Kane, by the way.” He held out a hand and Abby shook it instinctively, feeling her own small hand enveloped for a moment in a warm, firm grip. “I own this place. Thanks for coming in. We appreciate your custom, even if it may not seem like it right now.”

“Hi,” said Abby, still a little thrown but amused in spite of herself. “I’m afraid your colleague gets an extra point – I had no idea you were here before today.”

Kane groaned, but Bellamy grinned happily and disappeared out back, where Abby assumed they must be keeping some kind of scoreboard.

“Sorry about that,” said Kane. “He did take your order, didn’t he? It’s been a strange few days since Starbucks shut.”

“That’s okay,” said Abby. “If it’s any consolation, we get people saying that a lot to us where I work too.”

“You’re not a rival coffee shop come to investigate the competition in this cut-throat, post Starbucks world, are you?” asked Kane dryly, and Abby laughed.

“I work at the library round the corner,” she said. Kane looked a little blank, and she sighed.

“Don’t tell me...” she said.

“Sorry,” said Kane, with a disarming grin. “I had no idea you were there.”

“No wonder we’re struggling to stay open.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well at least no-one’s yet invented a downloadable coffee,” said Abby, who was now rather starting to enjoy herself. “And I bet when people come in for _your_ free wi-fi they actually have to _buy_ something first.”

“Actually we don’t have free wi-fi.”

“You _don’t?_ That’s—” She had been about to say _‘that’s probably why there’s hardly anyone here’_ but managed to stop herself. She wasn’t used to going into a place where you could actually meet the owner, and had only just realised in time that the choice to not have wi-fi available for their customers had presumably been his. “That’s...unusual,” she said instead, rather lamely.

“Well we’re an unusual place,” said Kane. “And I am – according to my employees – a boring old curmudgeon who’s stuck in a different century.”

“You don’t seem that curmudgeonly to me,” said Abby.

“Maybe you just caught me on a good day,” said Kane.

“I can’t imagine curmudgeonly behaviour would be a common trait of small independent coffee shop owners, either,” said Abby. “Not if you want people to come back more than once.”

Kane raised his eyebrows. “Well, I didn’t _always_ work in a coffee shop, you know.”

“Very mysterious,” said Abby approvingly. “Keep the customers guessing, right?”

“Got to keep them coming back somehow,” said Kane, with another grin. His warm brown eyes crinkled rather pleasantly at the corners when he smiled, she noticed. Abby smiled back, but at that point Bellamy finally reappeared again and slightly sheepishly handed over her coffee, which put an end to their conversation.

Abby found she was a little disappointed as she paid up, thanked them both and headed for the door. She had been enjoying herself. It had been a long time since she had been flirted with by such an attractive man, and he sure as hell beat the harassed looking teenagers in Starbucks. His coffee was better too, she thought, as she sipped it on her way back to work.

She didn’t think much of the encounter, beyond that. It was a busy day.

* * *

It was mid afternoon the day after her first visit when the woman from the library walked for the second time into Arkadia Coffee, and Marcus tried very hard not to look too pleased about it. It had been a slow day – Friday was the day a lot of people in the city worked from home or left early, so it was always quieter in the afternoons, and today had been particularly bad, with only a handful of loyal customers coming to grab a coffee to go, and almost no-one stopping to buy any food or sit down for a while.

Not that it technically mattered, he supposed, whether people took the time to sit down and relax rather than just pay for their coffee and go. But maybe he had some of his mother’s obsessive house-proud streak in him after all; Marcus had worked hard to make this place somewhere welcoming, and getting to meet and talk to new people was his favourite part of the job.

Not that he could pretend his pleasure at seeing the library woman again was entirely professional. He was idly cleaning the counter and talking to Octavia when she came in, looking every bit as attractive as he’d remembered, even bundled up in a coat and scarf against the cold.

Octavia perked up from her bored slouch at the sight of an actual customer approaching the counter, plastered a sudden bright smile to her face and said, “Hi! My name’s Octavia, and welcome to Arkadia Coffee House. Is this your first time in here?”

The library woman smiled back. “Sorry,” she said. “The other guy already beat you to it.”

“Damn!” Octavia frowned, her cheery professional facade immediately dropping. “He’s ten points ahead and I’ve only got this afternoon to catch up or I’m stuck with the stupid Saturday evening shift.”

At this point Marcus decided it was probably time to intervene. “Hi again,” he said, stepping forward to greet their customer. “What can I get for you? Same as yesterday?”

She looked surprised. “You remember what I got yesterday? I’m impressed; I didn’t think two days in a row made me a regular already.”

He could hardly tell her that it was her pretty eyes he remembered more than her coffee, so he just shrugged.

“The usual then, please,” said the woman, with a wry smile.

“Want a loyalty card?” said Octavia suddenly, as Marcus turned to start the order. “Tenth coffee is free.”

“Sure.”

Octavia whipped one out from under the counter. “Can I take your name please?” she said, pen poised. Marcus glanced at her in mild surprise – there was no reason for her to ask that, since their loyalty cards were no more than some fancy printed slips of card with spaces for stamps.

“Abby,” said the woman, readily. “Abby Griffin.”

Octavia made a show of jotting the name down on a notebook, added it to the back of the little printed card for good measure, and handed it over.

“So you’re competing with the other guy to get the day off on Saturday?” said Abby conversationally.

Octavia nodded. “My brother – he doesn’t even have plans, he’s just trying to win because _I_ have a date and he doesn’t want me to go.”

“He doesn’t like the guy?” said Abby.

“He doesn’t like _any_ guy I go out with,” said Octavia.

Abby laughed. It was, as Marcus had remembered, a very pleasant sound. “My father was the same way,” she said. “He used to interrogate any guy I brought home.”

Octavia threw a sideways glance at Marcus and shrugged. “Well it’s no-one else’s business who I date.”

This, Marcus thought, was a little unfair, since he wasn’t Octavia’s father and had been strenuously resisting the urge to pass any comment whatsoever on her choice of boyfriend up until this point. Clearly he hadn’t been as subtle as he’d thought.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you out,” said Abby. “Good luck though. I’m rooting for you.”

Octavia’s response was drowned out as the door opened and two familiar faces clattered in, looking around with an inspectorial air.

“See this place is buzzing as ever,” said one, a tall boy with unruly brown hair and a permanent smirk affixed to his face, examining the mostly empty room. “Looks like we’ll have to fight to the death to get a table.”

“May the best man win,” said the other solemnly, the edge of a smile tugging at his own mouth. “Shame Octavia will have to sweep up your remains afterwards.”

“Friends of yours?” Abby asked Octavia.

“Ha!” said Octavia. “That’s Jasper and Monty.” She pointed to each as she said the name. “They’re the _enemy._ They’re soulless ghouls of the corporate machine.”

“They work at Starbucks,” translated Marcus, for Abby’s benefit.

“Not right now,” said Monty, as they sauntered up. “We’ve got two weeks paid vacation while the renovations happen.”

“Courtesy of the corporate machine,” said Jasper smugly.

“Well, while the machine has ground to a halt, we’re still chugging along just fine over here, stealing your customers as we go,” said Marcus cheerfully, gesturing vaguely at Abby.

“Oh, I thought you looked familiar!” said Monty. “You come in all the time!”

“I don’t know about...” started Abby, looking a little embarrassed at Octavia’s reproachful look, but Jasper interrupted.

“Hey, yeah, you’re the doctor lady who saved that guy’s life last month!”

That got everyone’s full attention.

“You’re a doctor?” said Marcus. “I thought you were a librarian?”

“You saved a guy’s life?” said Octavia with interest.

“He just collapsed,” said Jasper, with no small amount of relish. “It was really dramatic, coffee _everywhere_.”

“I didn’t save his life,” said Abby, looking more and more flustered at the attention. “I just helped him until the ambulance got there, that’s all. I...used to be a doctor. Not anymore. Sorry, I’d better get back to work.”

She all but fled, grabbing her coffee from the counter beside her and rushing out of the door in a flurry of cold winter air. The little group stared after her, nonplussed.

“She’s hot,” commented Jasper.

“She’s old enough to be your mother,” said Monty.

“Just making an observation.”

“So was I.”

The two boys punched each other in a playful tussle for a moment, while Octavia rolled her eyes.

“Hey Kane,” called Jasper. “Help me out here. Was, or was not that doctor woman hot?”

“Stop gossiping about my customers in public,” replied Marcus firmly. “No-one is going to come back here if they hear you two rating people on how good looking they were as soon as they’ve walked out the door.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Jasper.

“Is she a regular _here_ now?” asked Monty. “It’s definitely not fair of you to steal all our hot customers who have epic life saving skills. What are we supposed to do if another person collapses? The next guy is just going to die because you lured our doctor librarian woman away with your folksy charm.”

“You should get Starbucks to adopt that as their slogan,” said Octavia. “I can see it now – ‘ _Starbucks: The Next Guy Is Just Going To Die.’_

“I do _not_ have folksy charm,” objected Marcus.

“I was talking about your coffee shop, not you,” said Monty.

“You sort of do though,” said Jasper.

“Yeah, you sort of do,” agreed Octavia, in a staggeringly swift reversal of loyalties. “And you were totally using it on her. Don’t give me that look!” She grinned. “Bellamy told me you were flirting with some woman yesterday and it obviously worked. She came back!”

“ _That,”_ said Monty sternly, “is very unethical business practice.”

“Shouldn’t you two be off playing video games or something?” said Marcus. “Isn’t that what teenagers do anymore?”

“We can see when we’re not wanted,” said Jasper haughtily. “We’re on the way into town anyway. We just came in to rub Octavia’s face in our two paid weeks off.”

They strolled out, ignoring Octavia sticking her tongue out at them as they left. Marcus bit back a grin – in spite of her new boyfriend and I’m-a-mature-independent-woman attitude, Octavia was still such a kid in some ways. Jasper and Monty tended to bring it out in her. In spite of their teasing, he knew they were two of the closest friends she had at school, and that counted for a lot; Octavia didn’t trust easily and tended to be prickly, so he couldn’t help but feel warmly towards anyone who saw through her tough shell and accepted her for who she was. However annoying those two were to be around.

His warm feelings towards Octavia tempered a little as she turned back to him and said:

“So is flirting with the customers to get them to come back allowed now? Because I bet _that’s_ a competition I could beat Bellamy on.”

“I was not flirting with anyone,” said Marcus, knowing even as he said it that protests were probably useless now she’d got the idea into her head.

“I got you her name, anyway,” said Octavia, grinning suddenly. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“ _That_ was what that was all about?” Marcus rubbed his temples wearily, torn between embarrassment and amusement. “Octavia, I really don’t need you to—”

Their budding argument was cut short as the door opened, and pretty young woman with a sleek dark brown ponytail and a red jacket came in, looking around with interest. She strolled up to the counter with a confident air.

“Hi,” she said. “I’ve never been here before, but a friend of mine said the coffee in here is good. And yeah, she _told_ me to say that, but it’s still true. Can I get a triple shot espresso?”

Octavia grinned. “Coming right up,” she said happily.

“I’d make it quick,” said the other girl, “because there are about half a dozen library staff on my tail when they get a break. She _really_ talked you guys up. The coffee must be damn good because to be honest, none of us even knew you were here before today.”

Octavia’s smile threatened to split her face in two, and Marcus had to stifle a laugh. As he headed out back to amend their makeshift scoreboard in her favour, he heard the girl out the front tell Octavia:

“Abby also told me to say ‘have fun on your date’, by the way.”


	2. Chapter 2

“All I’m saying is...” said the man at the library front desk, swaying slightly as he spoke. “All I’m saying is...I’m free tonight. Let me take you out, sweetheart. Show you a good time.”

“Thank you for the offer,” said Abby, as patiently as she could for the third time in the last five minutes she’d had to say it, “but I’m afraid I have to decline. Do you need any help finding something?”

_The nearest shower, perhaps?_ She didn’t voice the thought aloud, but it was a struggle. The man doing his best to take advantage of her inability to simply walk away as he tried to persuade her into a date smelled strongly of drink – not the thick reek that some of their regulars had, but enough to make Abby want to step back and wrinkle her nose. She didn’t. Murphy had once commented that being able to breathe through your ears was a little known library staff skill, and he had only been half joking.

“Already found it, babe,” said the man, with what he presumably thought was a winning smile. He leaned a little further over the counter. “Give us a chance, yeah? I know how to show a lady a good time.”

Abby kept her bland smile firmly in place. “I’m very flattered,” she lied, “but I’m afraid I’m just not interested.”

“You gay or something?”

Abby sighed. “No,” she said flatly. “And it’s not really appropriate for you to ask that, sir.”

“So why—”

“I think the lady said she wasn’t interested,” said a voice from behind him. “Some of us are here to borrow books, you know.”

The inebriated man turned in a vaguely aggressive way at the interruption, but balked as he saw the cold look the man behind him was fixing him with. Abby was both relieved and more than a little surprised to see Marcus Kane had walked up with a pile of books under one arm, looking for all the world as if he came here every day. From their past interactions at Arkadia Coffee, she wouldn’t ever have described him as a menacing presence, but now she could see why the drunk was hesitating at the prospect of a confrontation – Marcus was a tall, well built man, and when robbed of his usual welcoming smile his features did have a sharpness to them that gave him a slightly intimidating cast. He was staring the other man down unflinchingly.

“Don’t see that it’s your business,” muttered Abby’s hopeful suitor, rather sullenly.

“You’re holding up the line,” said Marcus. His tone was mild, but he didn’t break his gaze.

The drunk focused on him unsteadily, obviously gathering his wits enough to decide it wasn’t worth arguing. “Well...right,” he said, and turned back to Abby briefly. “No offence, honey,” he leered. “I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

Abby thought it best not to reply, and the man shuffled off, throwing a resentful look back over his shoulder as he walked out of the front doors. Marcus didn’t bother to watch him leave, instead placing his books casually on the counter and giving Abby a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry about that,” he said, as if it was in any way his fault. “You looked like you could use the help.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Abby, smiling back. “Not that I’m not glad that you showed up when you did.”

Marcus looked a little self conscious. “Now that I know you’re here,” he said, “the library, I mean...well I thought I’d come and sign up.” He gestured vaguely to his pile of books. “I thought, since you all gave us your custom, the least I could do is return the favour.”

“Well, thank you for coming to my rescue,” said Abby. “It was very... _chivalrous_ of you.”

“Do you get that sort of thing often?” asked Marcus.

Abby rolled her eyes. “Raven more than me,” she said, jerking her head to indicate the colleague in question, who was serving someone else a little way away. “Poor kid. But yeah, it happens. The joys of working with the public. Still, you must get it too.”

Marcus looked surprised. “Must I?” he said.

“Well, because you...you work with the public too, right?” said Abby awkwardly, cursing herself inwardly. Of course she had assumed Marcus must have to put up with people hitting on him all the time, ridiculously attractive as he was, but she really wished she hadn’t said it out loud.

She was saved from the uncomfortable moment by the arrival of Raven, dumping a load of books on the counter beside her and starting to scan them through very slowly in a transparent attempt to eavesdrop on their conversation. Marcus looked slightly awkward.

“Well I’d better be getting back,” he said.

“Right, thanks for stopping by,” said Abby, as airily as she could manage. “I’ll see you later. Oh! Your books—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Marcus smiled. “Actually I already used the self-service over there. I just figured you could use the excuse to get rid of that guy.”

“Well, thanks again,” said Abby, hoping fervently that she wasn’t blushing. She could almost see Raven’s delighted grin out of the corner of her eye.

Marcus scooped up his books and headed out of the front doors, leaving Abby slightly flustered and half wishing there was a line of people waiting to be served after him so she could avoid the inevitable. No such luck though, as the moment Marcus was out of the building, Raven stopped pretending to scan books and turned to her with raised eyebrows.

“So Abby...” she said slyly. “Who was _that?”_

“Just the guy who owns that coffee shop round the corner,” said Abby. "You know, you've been there."

It was the word ‘just’, she realised, that was her mistake. Raven’s smile spread into a full-on smirk. “I thought I recognised him,” she said. “So _that’s_ what’s got you in such a good mood lately – Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome. I don’t blame you. He looks like he should be on one of the covers over in the romance section.”

Abby sighed. “It’s not like that, Raven.”

“ _Chivalrous_ , Abby. You called him chivalrous. To his _face_.”

This time Abby was saved from having to reply by a customer who cleared their throat ostentatiously until Raven turned to serve them. Taking advantage of her distraction, Abby quickly typed Marcus Kane’s name into the library system – not to see anything like his age or his address, she told herself quickly, because that would be an abuse of power, but just to see what books he had taken out. For...work reasons. Maybe she could recommend a few titles to him next time they met. After all he was a brand new borrower, so it was in the library’s best interests to keep him coming back for more.

It turned out what he had mostly borrowed were cookery books – or baking, to be more precise. They tended not to issue so much these days, since it was easier for most people to just look up a recipe online than heave a heavy book into their kitchen, but Abby supposed Marcus had mentioned he was something of a traditionalist. ‘Stuck in a different century’ indeed.

Abby wondered if this meant the cakes he sold at Arkadia Coffee were actually baked in-house by him. She’d have to ask next time she went in.

Aside from the baking books, there were also a few titles on his ticket called things like _‘Raising a Happy Teen’_ and _‘Whatever! A Down To Earth Guide For Parenting Teenagers’._ A vision of Octavia crept into Abby’s mind.

“What are you smirking about?” said Raven, from behind her.

Abby quickly exited the card record. “Nothing,” she said.

“Right,” said Raven. “Well _nothing_ left his wallet behind, by the way, if you happened to...I don’t know, need an excuse to talk to him.”

Abby blinked at her. “He did?” She was sure she hadn’t remembered Marcus even taking his wallet out.

“In a way,” said Raven, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the wallet in question. “He’s not very observant is he, this guy? I could have made him forget his car keys and cell phone too if I’d wanted to while he was busy chatting you up.”

“Raven! You _stole_ from him?” Abby grabbed the wallet from Raven’s hand, resisting the urge to open it up and have a quick look inside. Her nosiness only went so far. She wasn’t going to go into stalking territory.

“Technically no,” said Raven, utterly unfazed. “He put it down on top of his pile of books. I just happened to knock it to the side a bit when he wasn’t paying attention. It’s his fault he didn’t notice it was gone when he was leaving. Guess he must have had something _else_ on his mind.” She winked suggestively and Abby glared at her.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” she said.

“I’ve been called worse,” shrugged Raven. “Of course as a dedicated library employee, I’d run after our customer and give him his wallet back, but you know...” – she gestured with mock sadness at her leg brace – “bum leg. I guess you’ll just have to do it.”

Abby fixed her with her best withering mom-stare, which didn’t have any effect on Raven whatsoever, and then put the wallet in the pocket of her jeans with as much dignity as she could muster.

“I’ll just go and give it back on my next break,” she said, turning back to her computer as another borrower approached the counter. “I was going to get some coffee later anyway.”

“I bet you were,” said Raven. Abby decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and pretended not to hear her.

* * *

In spite of Raven’s teasing, Abby was in a good mood that evening when she got home from work. For all that working with the public meant the odd unpleasant encounter, the rest of her job more than made up for having to fend off the occasional lecherous drunk, and when she ended each day she generally felt like she had at least made something of a positive difference in the world. Perhaps she wasn’t saving lives as she once had done, but...well that part of her life was behind her now. She had a job that meant a lot to her, colleagues who always had her back, and things could be a hell of a lot worse.

She told herself firmly that her good mood had nothing whatsoever to do with the way Marcus Kane’s face had lit up when she visited the coffee shop to hand back his wallet, though...well, why shouldn’t it make her happy to have made a new friend? She had lost contact with a lot of her old ones after Jake passed away, and her therapist had urged her to spend time with people who had ties just to her, rather than to the two of them as a couple. Anyway, Abby liked talking to Marcus. She was glad she’d decided not to switch back to Starbucks when they’d re-opened.

Adding to the success of the day, she had also acquired a slice of freshly baked carrot cake that Marcus had pressed upon her, asking her to ‘try it out’ before he started selling it. Abby was glad she hadn’t actually tried it until she got home, because the moment she put a forkful in her mouth she made some very undignified noises of pure bliss, and scarfed down the rest with embarrassing speed. It seemed deeply unfair that anyone should be so damn handsome and _also_ be able to bake cake so good it actually made you moan aloud when eating it, but when had life ever been fair?

Abby felt so unexpectedly buoyant that she decided to call Clarke before settling down for an evening starting on the new book she had to read for her book group – since it had been Diana Sydney’s turn to choose the title this month, she had been putting off starting it anyway, fairly sure that it wouldn’t be her thing, if Diana’s past choices had been anything to go by.

Besides, it had been over a week since she’d heard from Clarke, and that had been a two line email. She could hardly be accused of helicopter parenting for checking in once in a while, could she?

Settled down in her favourite armchair with a cup of tea and the dreaded book group book on a side table next to her, Abby dialled Clarke’s number. It rang for a long time before her daughter picked up, and Abby felt an instinctive rush of emotion at hearing the familiar voice:

“Hello?”

“Hi honey, how it’s going?”

“Oh! Mom!”

Abby couldn’t help but smile. “Why, who were you expecting?”

“I...no-one. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Is it really that surprising that I would call you?” asked Abby. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.” She tried not to sound too reproachful, and perhaps she succeeded too well, because Clarke didn’t offer any explanation for her long radio silence.

“What were you calling about?” she replied instead, leaving Abby a little lost for an answer.

“Nothing really, just to check in,” she said lightly. “I can call back another time if you’re busy though.”

“Yeah, could you?” said Clarke. “I’m just...you know, I have a lot of work right now.”

“Sure,” said Abby, trying not to betray her disappointment. But she couldn’t resist adding: “But don’t work too hard, okay? Your first year of college is supposed to be about having fun too. You know, trying out new things, making new friends...you’re doing all that too, right?”

There was a slightly longer than usual silence on the other end of the line, as though Clarke was deciding how to respond, and then she said:

“I am. Look, I’ll call you later in the week okay? Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too,” said Abby, and Clarke rang off.

She sat there cradling the phone in her hands for a while, wondering if she was overreacting by feeling so weird about this. After all, half the point of going off to college was spreading your wings and becoming an independent adult, right? Abby didn’t want to be one of those parents who called every single night and insisted Clarke come home to visit every weekend.

Okay, so admittedly she did _want_ to do those things, but she wasn’t going to. She remembered what it was like to have overbearing parents, and she and Jake had always promised each other that they would never repeat those mistakes with Clarke, that they would always be there to support her and help her when she needed it, but would also remember to step back and let her lead her own life and make her own choices without their constant input.

_Well you kept one part of your promise, Jake_ , Abby thought dully. She had always figured her husband would be the one who would find the resolution hard to keep; he and Clarke had always been so close. In the end it turned out Clarke had to grow into adulthood without him whether she wanted to or not.

Not that Clarke needed help to be her own person. She was strong and confident and knew her own mind. It was hardly surprising, Abby thought, that she would be busy building her new life away from home in these first few months, even if it felt strange for her to be so distant in every sense of the word. It didn’t mean anything. It was just something she would have to get used to.

Abby’s good mood hadn’t wholly evaporated, but somehow she was newly aware again of being alone in the house. She started on her book, but found it difficult to concentrate properly on the words, her mind wandering to what Clarke might be doing right now, trying to picture her surrounded by friends, laughing and joking. She wondered vaguely if Marcus, Octavia and Bellamy were sitting down to a relaxed family dinner right about now, and the thought made her heart ache. Suddenly her cosy set-up with her cup of tea and book felt more sad than comforting.

Giving up on her book, Abby put the TV on for the illusion of company, uncomfortably aware that it was what her dad had used to do after her mom passed away, and spent the rest of the evening channel surfing distractedly, until it was an acceptable time to go to bed.

* * *

“You know those old cartoons,” said Octavia conversationally. “When some hot love interest would walk past and the characters would get big pink hearts where their eyes should be?”

“Mmm?” said Marcus, who was doing the cashing up he had forgotten yesterday as Octavia cleaned, and only really half listening.

“That’s exactly how you look whenever that woman from the library comes in.”

Bellamy gave a snort of laughter from his seat in the corner, where he had ostensibly been trying to fix the toaster. Marcus felt his face growing unaccountably warm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said calmly, still carefully counting dollar bills.

“Ok, let me try another example,” said Octavia. “You know that dog that used to come round the back here that Bellamy used to feed? Because it would beg for scraps and look up at him with those big sad eyes and follow his every movement until he gave it something?”

“Octavia...”

“I’m just saying, there’s a resemblance.”

“Bellamy, tell your sister she’s being ridiculous.”

“Nah, I’m with her,” said Bellamy. “You’ve got it bad, Kane.”

“I haven’t _got_ anything,” said Marcus firmly.

“Not _yet,_ you haven’t,” snickered Octavia.

Marcus sighed, but decided not to dignify that remark with an answer. It was far too early in the morning to be needled about his lack of a love life, or his apparently embarrassingly obvious crush on one of his customers.

“How’s that toaster going?” he asked Bellamy, in a vain attempt to change the subject.

Bellamy glanced down at the offending object. “It’s...not,” he said.

“You should get Monty in here to fix it,” said Octavia. “He’s good at that stuff.”

“ _I’m_ good at—” started Bellamy defensively, but Octavia cut him off.

“So anyway Kane, when are you going to ask out Doctor Librarian Abby?”

Marcus sighed again, and glanced at the clock on the wall. At least ten minutes until he could reasonably claim they needed to open and get out of this conversation. He resigned himself to his fate, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

“She wears a wedding ring,” he said firmly, and realised only a second too late that admitting to having noticed that fact probably wasn’t the best way to assure anyone of his indifference to this woman.

Sure enough, Octavia raised her eyebrows. “She does,” she said. “But she _also_ wears a ring around her neck too, which looks like the other half of a pair to me.”

Marcus had, in fact, noticed that as well, but thought it best to respond only with a shrug.

“So whoever _used_ to wear that ring on their finger doesn’t anymore,” said Octavia triumphantly. “Which means she’s single. Which means you should go for it.”

“You don’t know that any of what you just said is true,” said Marcus wearily, realising that there was no way he was getting out of this conversation. “You’re just guessing.”

“She doesn’t _act_ like someone who’s married,” said Bellamy, who unfortunately seemed to have abandoned the toaster in favour of joining in the discussion.

“Not all married women do,” said Marcus, but it sounded weak even to his own ears.

“Oh come _on_ ,” said Octavia. “She’s in here every day. You’ve started reading ten times as much as you ever did before you suddenly spontaneously got super interested in supporting your local library for some reason. You gave her _cake._ Just ask her out already.”

“On that subject,” said Marcus pointedly, “are you still seeing that boy who works down at the Youth Centre? What was his name? Jefferson? Washington?”

“ _Lincoln_ ,” said Octavia, as Bellamy snorted. “And he’s not a _boy._ And yes I am.”

“You don’t think he’s a little too...”

“Too what?” asked Octavia sweetly, with a dangerous look in her eye.

“He’s got a point, O,” said Bellamy, as Marcus internally congratulated himself on having changed the conversation to the one topic that might distract both Blakes from his non-existent romance. “That place doesn’t exactly have the best reputation.”

“Lincoln’s making a difference there,” said Octavia fiercely, her hackles almost visibly rising as she glared at her brother. “The kids respect him because he doesn’t patronise them or write them off.”

“The _kids?”_ Bellamy looked irritated. “Most of them are your age, O. And most of them have already gotten into trouble with the police. I’m sure Lincoln means well, but I don’t want you thinking that—”

“Oh, you get to decide what I _think_ now, do you?” said Octavia.

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” said Bellamy, his tone getting a little heated. “Mom wouldn’t have wanted—”

“You do not get to play the ‘what mom would want’ card, Bell,” snapped Octavia. “I’m old enough to make my own choices, and if you don’t like it then you can—”

“Alright!” cut in Marcus quickly, now rather wishing his employees had just kept to needling him rather than each other. “It’s time to open up. You can continue this discussion another time.”

Bellamy and Octavia complied, following him out into the front of the shop, both casting each other prickly glances. Luckily there was a small group of regulars waiting outside for their morning caffeine fix when Marcus flipped the sign to open and unlocked the door, so soon their argument had cooled off as they settled into the comfortable routine of the morning; Bellamy served the customers while Octavia finished laying out the display of this morning’s freshly baked goods, and Marcus went round watering the plants and exchanging affable greetings to people he knew.

As early morning was tied with lunch hour for their busiest time, he didn’t notice at first when Abby came in, but when he turned around at hearing her familiar voice greeting him, he thought for a moment that he was seeing things.

After all, she didn’t usually come in before work. And the timing of her visit wasn’t the only thing that was unusual.

Abby was usually pretty casually dressed, as the library didn’t have a strict dress code. Marcus was used to seeing her in jeans and a long sleeved Henley shirt, of which she seemed to have an infinite number, her hair either loose or pulled back into a practical ponytail. The only adornment she wore was the ever-present ring on the chain around her neck, and he couldn’t really imagine that she was the sort of woman interested in fashion anyway – in fact he was willing to bet on her days off she threw on much the same outfit as when at work.

Not so today. Today, Abby’s hair was piled up into a complicated, elegant design at the back of her head, with delicate curling ringlets framing her face, and she was wearing a long white dress that fell straight from its high waistline to her ankles in very old fashioned style. It had little capped sleeves and a neckline low enough that the air in the room suddenly felt very warm. The only familiar thing was the ring hanging around her neck, which had the unfortunate side effect of directing the eye exactly where it shouldn’t be. Marcus tried very hard not to stare.

Octavia felt no such restraint. “What are you _wearing?_ ” she said, temporarily forgetting about the pastries she was piling onto a stand and goggling at Abby.

Abby laughed, and gave a self conscious little twirl. “My costume,” she said. “It’s World Book Day, although I realise this may not be such a big deal for uninitiated. Anyway it’s a library tradition that we all dress up as one of our favourite book characters.”

“So you’re Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice, right?” said Octavia.

“Got it in one,” smiled Abby. “It was an easy one to do.”

As Octavia was distracted by another early customer coming up to the counter, Abby leaned in a little closer to Marcus, and said in a conspiratorial whisper: “Actually, I’m secretly Anne Elliot, from _Persuasion._ But that’s much harder to explain to people.”

“I’ve never read it,” said Marcus, who was painfully aware that this wasn’t the most winning of responses, but was still having trouble forming coherent thoughts in the face of Abby’s playful smile and incredibly distracting cleavage.

“It’s the best Austen, in my opinion,” said Abby. “But don’t repeat that in the library staffroom unless you want a fight to break out.” She sighed. “Although age-wise I’m technically closer to Mrs Bennet, as a customer so helpfully pointed out to me yesterday. Which is a depressing thought.”

“Mrs Bennet isn’t so bad,” said Marcus, taking refuge in literature. “She raised five daughters with a low income and a husband who couldn’t care less, and she actually achieved her goals by the end of the book – three of them married, and two to rich husbands, just like she wanted.” In response to Abby’s slightly stunned expression, he added: “Pride and Prejudice is one I _have_ read, although only at school.”

“And I bet your teacher loved your essays,” said Abby. “But my one daughter is enough for me, and I’d rather she married for her own sake.”

“You have a daughter?” said Marcus, surprised at this new piece of information.

Abby nodded. “Clarke. She’s studying art at college out of state.”

“That’s...” Marcus floundered in a sea of small talk, unsure how to respond. He wanted Abby to keep talking about herself, but he wasn’t sure how to take the news that she had a child, even one that was nearly an adult. A daughter meant that the ring on her finger was far more likely to be from a husband who was still in her life, even if they were no longer married. It didn’t bode well for his chances.

But then what about the ring around her neck? And when, exactly, had he started thinking about his _chances?_

He was saved by Octavia, who had finished serving her customer and took advantage of the brief pause in work to come over and examine Abby’s costume in more detail.

“Did you do your hair yourself?” she asked. “It’s really cool.”

“Thanks,” said Abby. “I did have to get up early this morning though.”

“Kane, why don’t we ever have themed days here?” said Octavia. “I could be Katniss from the Hunger Games! And you could be Haymitch.”

“Yes, because I’ve so often been told how much I look like Woody Harrelson,” said Marcus, deadpan, while Abby stifled a laugh.

Octavia rolled her eyes. “ _Book_ Haymitch, obviously,” she said.

“I’m not sure just the three of us coming to work in costume for no reason is going to have quite the same effect as a legitimate event at the library,” said Marcus mildly. “Anyway I don’t see why I have to be an accessory to your costume. If you get to be a character from your favourite book then I intend to be Aragorn from the Lord of the Rings.”

“You are no _way_ good-looking enough to be Aragorn,” said Octavia. “And those books are lame, there’s like _one_ female character in them. You should read something that came out less than a million years ago sometime.”

Without giving him a chance to reply, she wandered off to go and speak to Bellamy, leaving Marcus suitably chastised.

“Daughters, huh?” said Abby wryly.

Marcus blinked, surprised. “Ah. Octavia isn’t my daughter.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Abby looked very embarrassed. “Because she and Bellamy are brother and sister, and you...I guess I just assumed...”

“That’s alright. I suppose we do look similar, and we don’t exactly have the usual manager/employee relationship. I’ve known Octavia and her brother for a long time. But they’re not my family in the usual sense of the word.”

“Right.” Abby looked as though she very much wanted to ask more questions but couldn’t work out how. She glanced behind him at the clock on the wall and her eyes widened.

“Oh God, I’d better get to work, I have a million things to do,” she said. “I figured I’d come in early because I’m not gonna have time later, but I haven’t even ordered...”

“No need,” said Bellamy, walking up and shoving a cup of coffee into her hand. “I’m way ahead of you.”

“Thanks,” said Abby. “It’s going to be a hell of a day.”

Marcus couldn’t help but grin at such a sentiment coming from someone dressed so finely. “Well, thank you for blessing my humble establishment with your patronage, Miss Elliot,” he said gravely.

She gave a quick, exaggerated curtsey, eyes sparkling with good humour. “Until tomorrow then, Mr Kane,” she said.

He watched her leave, and couldn’t help but let his gaze follow her down the street, as she walked past people with her coffee cup in hand as a bizarrely charming inconsistency, apparently utterly unconcerned with the stares she attracted along the way.

He turned to see Bellamy grinning at him.

“Alright there, Kane?” he said. “Want me to throw a bucket of cold water over you or something?”

“Don’t start.”


	3. Chapter 3

When her phone rang, Abby scrambled out of the tangle of blankets she had been cocooned in, almost tripping over her feet in her rush to answer it. It was probably a mark of how depressing her social life had become that she couldn’t remember the last time someone had called her – beyond the odd text from Raven about car-sharing, she could pretty much guarantee an uninterrupted evening at home every night. She couldn’t help but think wryly of the early days of her and Jake’s marriage, when they occasionally had to take the landline phone off the hook just so that they wouldn’t be disturbed by the endless parade of calls from their family and friends while trying to watch a movie curled up on the couch together. There was nothing that killed the mood faster than a panicky phone call from your mother-in-law about whatever conspiracy theory or true crime story she had heard about that day.

Strange to think that she should miss that now. Abby assumed the phone call tonight could only be from Clarke, so it was a surprise when she picked up her cell and heard a man’s voice on the other end.

“Hey Abby, long time no see.”

“Jackson!”

Abby felt the familiar rush of emotions at hearing from someone who had used to be such an important part of her old life – the uncomfortable mixture of guilt, regret and nostalgia. Doctor Jackson had been one of her closest friends at the hospital, her protégée, and there had been times when she had seen more of him than her own family. Perhaps that was part of the reason why, after she had left, she had let their friendship lapse into little more than the occasional birthday greeting on Facebook, and vague promises of meeting up more often than they ever actually did. She realised she hadn’t actually heard his voice in several months now.

“Someone asked after you at the hospital the other day, and I realised how long it’s been since I talked to you,” said Jackson. “I know you must be busy” – how characteristically diplomatic of him, thought Abby – “but I wondered if you wanted to get together and catch up some time? Maybe grab a bite to eat in your lunch hour or something.”

Abby felt a swell of affection for Jackson, along with a great big helping of guilt. She’d been fretting so much about Clarke cutting her out and not bothering to contact her, and all along she had been doing exactly the same thing to Jackson. He deserved better than that...and she had missed him, she realised. The fact that he was also so clearly giving her a way to politely decline if she wanted to, or limit the time they spent together by claiming she had to return to work, was typical of his particular brand of self-effacing thoughtfulness.

“I’d love to,” she said sincerely. “It’s been too long. Are you free next week at all?”

“I’ll be in the city on Thursday,” said Jackson, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Just tell me when you get off for lunch and I’ll meet you somewhere near the library.”

“Sounds great,” said Abby. “As it happens, I know just the place.”

* * *

It was busy time at Arkadia Coffee, and Bellamy was dealing with the lunchtime rush when Abby and Jackson walked in, Abby feeling strangely nervous at introducing her friend to a new place that she had perhaps talked up a little too much. But Jackson seemed happy enough as he looked around the cosy interior, and it wasn’t as if it was fine dining he had come to see her for. When they’d met up outside the front of the library as arranged, he had surprised her by pulling into a warm hug, and Abby had surprised herself by being almost brought to tears by the gesture. Jackson had obviously missed her too – she felt doubly guilty for letting the painful associations his friendship had for her cause her to give him the cold shoulder these last few years.

She would do better by him, she decided. She wouldn’t let so long go by without reaching out again. It wasn’t fair to punish herself for what had happened by punishing others as well.

When they reached the front of the line, Abby pushed her thoughts aside and greeted Bellamy cheerfully, noting his expression of surprise at the unusual timing of her visit.

“Hi Bellamy,” she said. “We’re eating in today, if you can fit us in. Two slices of carrot cake – you’ve got to try this cake, Jackson, it’s amazing – a regular latte and a black coffee please.”

“Sure,” said Bellamy. “You go and sit down, I’ll bring it over to you.”

“Thanks.”

Abby and Jackson managed to snag a table in the corner by the fortunate timing of another customer leaving, and sat down opposite each other, a little self consciously. Their initial greetings over, Abby suddenly felt the pressure of having to try and pick up the conversation with someone she hadn’t spoken to seriously in far too long.

“So how have you been, Jackson?” she said, deciding there was no sense in trying to avoid the subject. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to catch up with you sooner.”

“It’s my fault too,” said Jackson. “And you can call me Eric, you know.”

Abby made a face. “I know, but it just feels weird.”

Jackson laughed. “Well I don’t mind either way. Feels like old times.”

“How are things at the hospital?”

“Same as ever,” said Jackson. “The nurses send their love. Said to tell you they miss you. Doctor Jaha sends his warmest regards.”

Abby wrinkled her nose. “Those exact words?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“He hasn’t changed then. How’s Nate?”

“Good. Stressed about his exams. He wants us to go surfing in California this summer when we stay with his parents; I think the idea of me making an idiot of myself on a surfboard is the only thing keeping him sane at the moment.”

Abby grinned. “True love,” she said.

“What about you?” said Jackson. “How are things at the library?”

“Good!” said Abby, aware even as she said it that there was a slightly false note of cheeriness in her voice. “Things are good. We’ve got a new printer that works finally, the bathrooms haven’t been vandalised in weeks, and with Spring Break coming up we have a lot of activities planned for the kids. And I’m running a bookgroup once a month; The Bookworms. Not the most original name ever, I know. So I’m keeping busy.”

Jackson obviously detected the note of hesitancy in her voice. “But...?” he prompted.

Abby sighed. “There are more cutbacks coming though, everyone knows it. So where we’ll be this time next year...” She let the sentence trail off, hoping her voice didn’t betray just how anxious the thought made her. It wasn’t so much her own job Abby feared for, but she had grown very fond of her colleagues over the past few years, and they were all worried about their futures too. She couldn’t imagine some of them easily finding a job anywhere else either – her mind immediately went to Raven’s bad leg and need for flexible hours and a job where she could sit down when she needed to, and Murphy’s dry humour and outwardly truculent attitude that had gotten him fired from every other job he’d had.

At that moment Bellamy appeared with their order, and they were distracted for a few minutes by the irresistible lure of fresh cake and hot coffee. Abby found herself relaxing in Jackson’s presence as she remembered a thousand lunch-breaks not unlike this one, sharing a cup of terrible hospital coffee with him as they talked over the business of the day. She got on well with her co-workers at the library, but it was really nice to spend time with someone who understood her so well, who she had a history with. Perhaps her therapist had been wrong about focusing on people who had no emotional ties to Jake – actually it was kind of a relief to speak to someone who understood without having to ask why she had upended her whole life so completely.

“Clarke must be at college now, right?” Jackson said, between mouthfuls of cake. “Is she getting on okay?”

“I...fine. Yeah, she’s doing fine.”

Jackson raised his eyebrows. “That sounded very convincing.”

Abby sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know how Clarke is. I don’t hear from her for weeks sometimes, and whenever I call I feel like she’s always just heading out and has no time to spare. I don’t want to smother her, but...”

“You miss her.” Jackson smiled. “That pretty normal for a parent whose only child has moved out.”

“I guess.” Abby sipped her coffee, trying to put the feeling into words. “I just feel like she’s avoiding me for some reason. I wish I knew why.”

“She’s still a teenager. Do they need a reason?”

Abby looked at Jackson – who never seemed much older than a teenager himself to her – over the top of her coffee cup and forbore to comment. She was distracted anyway by Jackson glancing up inquiringly at something behind her shoulder, and in a moment Marcus Kane had appeared. He must have been out the back, Abby supposed.

“How is everything?” he asked.

“Great as always,” said Abby, smiling. “The cake’s good with the extra cinnamon.”

“Glad you approve.” He glanced slightly awkwardly at Jackson, and Abby started.

“Oh! Jackson, this is Marcus Kane,” she explained. “He owns this place. Marcus, this is Doctor Eric Jackson, an old friend from my previous job.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Marcus warmly, and shook Jackson’s hand, rather to Abby’s amusement.

“Same to you,” said Jackson. “My boyfriend would love this place. He’s a sucker for homemade cake.”

Marcus smiled, taking the compliment graciously, though Abby herself was a little taken aback. It wasn’t like Jackson to be so forward about his personal life, especially in front of a complete stranger.

“Well, any friend of Abby gets a 10% discount,” Marcus said amiably. “Since she keeps us in business pretty much single-handedly.”

Jackson grinned. “Doctors drink a lot of coffee. I guess old habits die hard.”

“Hey!” Abby protested. “You two try working for ten hours straight in a public library and see if you don’t need a drink! You should be glad it’s only coffee and not anything stronger.”

“From a purely business sense, I am,” said Marcus, his eyes twinkling. “Nice to meet you,” he nodded to Jackson, and then headed off to take the order of another regular customer who had just walked in.

Abby raised her eyebrows at Jackson. “What was all that about?” she said.

“Just being friendly,” said Jackson innocently.

“And bringing up your boyfriend out of nowhere? I don’t think you were in any danger of Marcus hitting on you, Jackson.”

Jackson gave her an amused look. “Abby...I brought up Nate because the moment that man saw you sitting at a table with me he looked like a kicked puppy. I felt like I should put him out of his misery.”

“Oh.” Abby’s face suddenly felt very warm. She glanced sideways to make sure Marcus couldn’t overhear their conversation. “I’m sure that’s not...uh...I mean...”

“You’re stammering,” said Jackson, a smile creeping over his face. “Must be serious.”

“It’s not. Not like that, I mean. It’s not anything.”

“It looked like _something_.”

“He’s just nice to everyone,” said Abby. She felt a knot of something like panic in her chest, a sudden desperate need to make Jackson understand that he’d gotten the wrong impression. “You know I’m not looking for...anything. Marcus is a friend. An acquaintance, really.”

Jackson was looking at her strangely, but he seemed to realise how uncomfortable she was becoming at this line of conversation, and deftly changed it with a comment on the decor, which Abby seized on gratefully.

The rest of their time together was spent in less sensitive subjects of conversation, and Abby bid goodbye to Jackson with an entirely genuine promise to get together again soon. It had felt good to break up her routine and re-connect with someone whose friendship had always been easy and reassuring, and she found that some of the guilt she’d been carrying around about the life she’d left behind had been eased just from hearing Jackson talking about the hospital. To her surprise, it had been comforting more than depressing to learn that life went on just as well without her.

His teasing about Marcus had rattled her a little though, and Abby tried not to dwell on it as she went about the rest of her day. In truth, she should have expected that sooner or later the people around her would start wondering if she intended to live the rest of her life alone or start dating again, but she hadn’t expected to have to deal with it so _soon_. Raven’s casual banter was one thing, but the fact that Jackson apparently also saw her as so freely unattached...that her husband was such a thing of the past to him that Jake wasn’t even a consideration any more when it came to Abby’s personal life...it made her feel slightly tender, as though he had poked unknowing at a wound that was still closing.

* * *

It was early May, and the weather was turning, slowly but surely. The first really warm day of the year had brought out the late blossom on the trees on the street outside Arkadia Coffee, scattering a sun-dappled pink carpet across the grimy city street, temporarily transforming it into something that could almost be described as pretty.

It had been a quiet day – presumably everyone was out enjoying the sunshine – and when closing time rolled around Marcus didn’t have too much trouble clearing up and hinting to the last couple of customers at their table that it was about time to get moving. People did tend to linger a little longer sometimes now the evenings were getting lighter, but he couldn’t really begrudge them, and hell...what really pressing appointment did he have to get anyway? He was single-handed today because both Bellamy and Octavia were busy, and what with running Arkadia being a full time job, those two represented pretty much the sum total of his social life.

Which was a bit of a depressing thought for such a beautiful day.

Still, Marcus was a little annoyed when he had just ushered the last customer out and was literally walking to the front door to lock it and flip the sign and a young man walked in. The chairs were up on the tables; it could hardly have been clearer that they were all but closed.

“Can I help you?” Marcus asked, trying not to sound too pointed.

The man’s brow wrinkled slightly as he observed Marcus, as though he was trying to work something out. He was tall and dark, with a shaven head and several visible tattoos, a description which, combined with his expression of wary surprise, pinged something in Marcus’ mind. He suddenly had a very clear suspicion of who was standing in front of him, and the first words out of the man’s mouth all but confirmed it:

“I’m looking for Octavia,” he said.

“She’s out with friends,” said Marcus.

In fact, she had gone paintballing with Jasper and Monty, leaving Marcus to cover her usual shift and lock up alone. It was an inconvenience, but she had been so excited about it that he hadn’t liked to say no – in fact, he was never very good at saying no to Octavia – and he had to admit the idea of her shooting globs of paint at those two had a certain appeal. He didn’t imagine for a moment that the boys would come out on top; he knew from experience that Octavia had lethal aim.

“I see,” said the man. He inclined his head. “Sorry to bother you then.”

He turned to leave but Marcus stepped in front of him in as non-confrontational way as he could.

“Lincoln, right?” he said. “We haven’t met before. You’re Octavia’s boyfriend.”

Actually she had never called him that in so many words, but Marcus was half hoping to provoke a reaction from the young man in front of him. Unfortunately he was met with a coolly neutral response.

“That’s right. And you’re her boss.”

It was a subtle challenge, but undeniably there nonetheless. Marcus could read the meaning loud and clear: _so what Octavia does is none of your business._

“Octavia’s told me all about you,” he countered. “She thinks very highly of you.”

_That’s right, she’s made it my business,_ he thought smugly. _Point to me._

“She talks about you a lot too,” said Lincoln. _I know that you don’t approve of me and I don’t care._

Détente. The two men stared each other down for a long and uncomfortable moment. There had been a time when Marcus Kane had been able to intimidate anyone with just a cold glare, but apparently that time had passed because Lincoln didn’t look the least bit cowed. Then again, you probably had to have a pretty tough skin to keep the kids down at the Youth Centre in line – probably even at the height of his arrogant success, Marcus guessed he wouldn’t have made much of an impression on that bunch of juvenile delinquents. Lincoln was probably a hard person to intimidate.

Strangely, he found that thought made him like the guy a bit more.

Just a bit, though.

“How old are you, anyway?” he said, and that couldn’t help but come out as more aggressive than he intended. He saw a shift in Lincoln’s eyes that might have been wariness, as the tone of the conversation noticeably sharpened.

“Twenty four,” said Lincoln.

“Really?”

This time there was a flicker of something that might have been amusement in the younger man’s eyes. “I’m pretty sure, yes,” he said.

“Octavia’s only just turned eighteen,” said Marcus, determined not to be thrown off by losing the initiative in the conversation. Twenty four was younger than he would have guessed – and younger than he had feared, thank God – but there still seemed to him to be a pretty big gulf between Octavia and the man standing in front of him.

“I know,” said Lincoln.

“She’s old enough to make her own decisions and trust her own judgement, but there are still people who care about her and will always be looking out for her to make sure she isn’t being taken advantage of,” said Marcus.

“Glad to hear it,” said Lincoln.

“Good,” said Marcus. Then: “Do you want to come to dinner?”

“I...what?”

“Since this place closes late, I usually just heat something up in the microwave when I get home every day, and so do Bellamy and Octavia,” said Marcus. “But at least once a week I make sure we all get a decent meal together. We usually just go to one of the places nearby. You could join us, next week.”

He had the satisfaction of seeing Lincoln look genuinely taken aback, something he suspected was difficult to achieve. Lincoln seemed to work through a variety of different responses in his head before replying carefully:

“I think it’s too soon for that. But thanks for the offer.”

Marcus nodded, unoffended. He had the sneaking suspicion from Lincoln’s answer that the guy actually understood Octavia very well, because he too couldn’t imagine that Octavia’s reaction to her boyfriend being invited to dinner with all of them would be anything other than horror. So far, Lincoln had been something that was just _hers_ , and Octavia could be very prickly about opening up to people, sometimes. Losing her mother so young had made her defensive, wary of showing much in the way of emotional vulnerability. The integration of her boyfriend and her family was probably something that would have to be done very slowly and carefully.

But Lincoln at least hadn’t said ‘no’, which was a start.

“Well I’m just locking up anyway,” Marcus said. “Octavia probably doesn’t have her phone on her while she’s paintballing, but she’ll be done in about half an hour.”

“Right,” said Lincoln. “Thanks.”

He hesitated for a moment, obviously wondering if anything else needed to be said, before turning and walking out. Marcus waited until he was a tactful distance away down the street before locking the door and flipping the sign to ‘closed’, with some relief. Only when he was absolutely sure Lincoln would not be returning did he let himself go into the back room and sink down onto a chair, letting the tension uncoil from his body.

Perhaps he wouldn’t tell Octavia about this encounter. He had the strong suspicion he might have made an idiot of himself. Perhaps he could ask Abby for advice next time he saw her – she must have some experience in dealing with awkward encounters with her daughter’s boyfriends.

* * *

Abby sometimes wondered if being a doctor meant that fate decreed accidents more likely to happen around you, or if it was just her perception that she always seemed to be thrust into situation where her skills were called upon, whether she wanted them to be or not. After the incident at Starbucks some months ago (whatever Octavia’s friends had said, she really _hadn’t_ done much other than keep the old man calm and comfortable until the ambulance arrived) she hadn’t expected her daily coffee run to ever be so fraught again, so it came as something of a shock when she walked into Arkadia Coffee to find Bellamy and Marcus standing over a load of smashed glasses on the counter, Marcus cradling a hand that was covered with blood.

“ _Jesus_ , what happened?” she asked, already swiftly heading behind the counter, ignoring the concerned murmurs and glances of the handful of customers who were queuing, obviously wondering if they should offer help.

Bellamy and Marcus both turned to look at her and started speaking at once.

“It’s nothing—” said Marcus, as Bellamy overlapped him firmly with: “Kane broke a bunch of glasses, and it went into his hand. Tell him he needs to go to the E.R.”

The young man’s exasperated tone barely covered the real concern in his eyes, and Abby gave him a reassuring smile. “Let me take a look,” she said. “Can you uncurl you fingers?”

Marcus held out his hand, wincing, to a faint chorus of sympathetic groans from the waiting customers. Blood was already staining the cuff of his shirt, and Abby ignored the sudden increase in her heartbeat to unbutton the sleeve and roll it briskly up his forearm to keep it out of the way. She was a veteran of hundreds of surgeries, and obviously wasn’t bothered by the sight of blood, but it was always different when it was someone you knew. Abby remembered, suddenly, the first time Clarke has fallen as a little kid and split open her knee; the irrational panic that had gripped her in the face of such a tiny injury compared to the horrors she saw inflicted on stranger’s bodies every day. It was more difficult, with someone you cared about, to separate the body from the person, to not feel their pain, however minor, as your own.

“Excuse me,” said a slightly impatient voice from the direction of the waiting customers. “Do you know when—”

“You’ll have to wait,” snapped Bellamy. “You can see we’re busy.”

“ _Bellamy_.” Marcus’ voice was even sharper. “You serve the customers, I’ll be fine. A lot of these people have jobs to get back to.”

Bellamy’s usually mild face looked like thunder. “We can shut early,” he said stubbornly. “I’ll drive you to the hospital—”

“ _No_.”

“I’ll take care of it,” said Abby, cutting in to try and stem the budding argument. “It’s not as bad as it looks Bellamy, I promise. I don’t think it’ll need stitches.”

Bellamy hesitated, glancing from Marcus to Abby and then back again. “Are you sure?” he said.

“Trust me, I’m a librarian,” said Abby dryly. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

“Out the back,” said Bellamy, apparently resigned. “I can cover here.”

“Thanks Bellamy,” said Marcus. He laid his uninjured hand briefly on the young man’s shoulder as he passed, in a rather sweet gesture that made Abby smile, and then headed towards the door behind the counter as Bellamy turned reluctantly back to the growing line of customers, Abby following behind.

* * *

Marcus couldn’t help but feel absurdly self-conscious as he led Abby into the back room – through a punch-code lock that had been broken for months – the door swinging shut with a click behind them. He felt embarrassed not just at the fact that he and Bellamy had essentially just press-ganged her into service, but also at having been so clumsy in the first place, at his customers having seen it and Abby having come in just at the wrong moment...hell, he even felt a bit embarrassed at the mess as he saw her glancing around the cluttered back room, taking in the scattered books and magazines, the cracked second-hand couch, the piled cardboard boxes full of junk, the perennially broken toaster that Bellamy still hadn’t made any headway with. He couldn’t help but feel like a teenager who had invited a girl round to his bedroom for the first time and forgotten to clean up first.

“Thanks for the back-up,” he said, trying to cover his embarrassment. “I’m sorry about this.”

Abby smiled. “It really does look worse than it is,” she said, obviously assuming he was referring to his hand and nothing else. She took the First Aid kit off the wall where Marcus made sure it was always hanging within easy reach by the door. “Hands always bleed a lot. But there’s still a couple of shards in there. I can take care of it, sit down.”

Her professional one brooked no argument. Marcus sat obediently at the little table and Abby drew up another chair to sit close to him, opening the kit with practised movements.

“So why are you smashing up the glassware, anyway?” asked Abby.

“Just an accident,” said Marcus sheepishly. “Stupid of me. I was distracted. Yesterday when I was closing up I met...ah, it doesn’t matter. It’s been a difficult week.”

“I know the feeling,” said Abby sympathetically. “Thank god it’s Friday, right? Although since both of us work on Saturdays too, maybe that sentiment is kind of redundant. Okay, put your hand out.”

Marcus complied, trying his hardest not to look at it as Abby grabbed the tweezers and set to work.

“Any news on the changes at the library?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the sharp flares of pain. He had a slightly adolescent determination not to seem like a wimp in front of Abby.

“They’re having a ‘staff consultation’ now,” said Abby. The scepticism dripping off the two words told him what she thought of the idea. “Asking us whether we’ve got any ideas to save money, that kind of thing. It’s just for show anyway – the powers that be will listen very carefully to what everyone says, note it all down, and then go ahead and do what they were always going to do anyway. When they need to slash the budget we’re always the first service to get cut.”

She put the tweezers down and grabbed an antiseptic wipe from the packet, cleaning the blood from his palm and where it had trickled down his wrist. She was right about it looking worse than it was, Marcus saw with relief as he braved a glance down – the bleeding was already slowing.

“The people who make these decisions are never the ones who actually _use_ the services,” continued Abby as she worked. “They think books are some kind of stupid luxury the city can do without. They don’t realise how important libraries are for so many other reasons; what a sanctuary we can be for people who have nowhere else to go. You know we’re one of the few places you can go where you can spend a whole day and not have to _pay_ anything? Of course that doesn’t occur to some government suit looking to cut costs, but to a single mom with a new baby who can’t afford to go out to socialise, or to a student who needs a quiet place to study, or to an out-of-work person who doesn’t have a computer at home to—” She cut herself off suddenly. “I’m ranting. Sorry.”

“You feel pretty strongly about it,” said Marcus, oddly charmed by her fervour.

Abby smiled, a little self consciously. “I guess I do. The library was sort of a sanctuary for me for a while too, after my husband died.”

That answered one lingering question anyway, and immediately raised another obvious one. Marcus couldn’t bear to ask, but Abby was clearly used to this conversation, and added: “Car accident. Almost three years ago now.”

“I’m sorry.” The words felt inadequate, but what else could you say? “Is that...when you started working at the library?”

Abby nodded, as she unrolled a bandage from the first aid kit and started wrapping it carefully around his palm, her eyes not leaving her task. “I was always the one with the career,” she said. “Jake stayed home with Clarke while she was growing up. She was always her dad’s little girl. After Jake was gone...I worked such long hours at the hospital, I would hardly have seen her. She needed me to be around for her, back then.”

Marcus caught an edge of wistfulness to her voice that needed no explanation. He had always lived alone himself – well, since he’d left his mom’s house as a teenager, anyway – and even so he thought it would be difficult to get used to not having Octavia and Bellamy around every day if they were ever to move out of state like Clarke. He could only imagine how hard it must have been for Abby to give up everything to spend more time with her daughter, only to lose her to college a couple of years later.

“Have you ever thought about going back to work as a doctor?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t overstepping his bounds with the question.

But Abby shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, it wasn’t just about the hours, it was...I didn’t feel like I could carry on working there after what happened. I just saw Jake everywhere. Every time I had a patient I thought ‘Why should I think I can save _them_ if I couldn’t save my own husband? Why would anyone trust _me_ with their life?’”

She looked suddenly self-conscious, as thought she felt she had revealed rather too much.

“Anyway,” she said. “I still wanted to do something where I could help people but not...” She trailed off, but Marcus finished her thought for her, his voice gentle.

“Not something where people’s lives were in your hands,” he said.

“Raven was one of my patients I’d kept in touch with,” Abby said. “She told me there was a job going at the library where she worked, so I applied on a whim. I guess they must have been desperate.”

“But you seem to enjoy it?”

“Yes. It’s...” She let out a rueful little breath of laughter. “Not exactly the peaceful job I thought it would be. The pay’s not great, and it’s frustrating sometimes, but I do love it there. I feel like I’m making a difference to people’s lives, even in a small way. To the community. And Jake always used to love taking Clarke to the library, so it helps me to feel connected to him, I guess. We were all big readers. A family of total nerds, I’m afraid.”

A pause in conversation made Marcus realise suddenly that Abby had long since finished bandaging as they talked, and was now in fact just holding his hand in her own, apparently unthinkingly. Abby seemed to realise this at the same time he did, and quickly released him.

“Oh! We’re done,” she said, rather redundantly. “I’d keep the bandage on for a couple of days just to give it time to heal, and let me know if you get any swelling or irritation.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time,” she said. “Although don’t take that as an excuse to go smashing up the place every time you have a bad week. I happen to like it here.”

Marcus smiled. “I promise.”

There was another awkward pause. The cluttered back room suddenly felt inexplicably too small and intimate, and Marcus was suddenly very aware that this was the first time he had been totally alone with Abby, a realisation which felt more significant than it should have. He stood up quickly to cover his discomfort. “I should...get back to it,” he said. “Help Bellamy clean up.”

Abby nodded with a slightly awkward smile and followed suit, and they both headed back out into the front, Abby opening the door for him so he wasn’t obliged to use his injured hand. Marcus felt rather off kilter from the unexpected turn their conversation had taken, and he thought Abby looked like she felt the same way, so he strove for some less serious subject to lighten the mood.

“So...I’ve started reading _Persuasion,”_ he said carelessly, pulling a topic out of nowhere. “On your recommendation. Hang on, let me get your coffee, it’s the least I could do.”

“Thanks,” said Abby. She leaned casually on the counter and watched him work as he made her usual order as best he could one-handed, and Marcus saw her exchange a quick nod of reassurance with Bellamy, who was serving a couple at the corner table. The line of customers seemed to have depleted, at least. “What do you think of it?” Abby asked. “The book, I mean.”

“I like it so far. The language is a bit distracting sometimes because I’m used to things written _this_ century, no matter what Octavia thinks. But I’m getting into the story, and the characters are fun. And I like Anne. I’m really rooting for her.”

“I knew you would,” said Abby, obviously pleased.

Marcus went to hand her the cup of coffee and hesitated. “You know, I suppose I thought...” he said, not sure if this was really an opinion he should be voicing, “...because you said she was your favourite, that she’d be more like you. More confident and outspoken. I’ll admit I only read _Pride and Prejudice_ grudgingly as a teenager, and I think I saw a movie of _Emma_ once with my mother, but Anne seems very...different to the other heroines Jane Austen wrote. Can I ask why she’s your favourite?”

Abby smiled, but her eyes didn’t meet his as she accepted her coffee and replied:

“Because she gets a second chance.”


	4. Chapter 4

Summer in the city was hot and humid and hectic. Usually Abby was a fan of the sunshine, but even she had to admit that this current heat-wave was a little more summer than anyone could handle, and it was making everyone cranky.

The school summer vacation was always a busy time at the library, and the stress had been exacerbated for everyone with the threat of budget cuts still hanging over their heads. Just last week Murphy had gotten into serious trouble for being cuttingly sarcastic to a couple of moms who had been gossiping so intently they hadn’t noticed their toddlers running out of the automatic doors at the front and nearly being run down in the busy street outside.

The moms were idiots, of course, but it wasn’t generally considered good customer service to say so to their faces, which was what Murphy had done. Abby had been obliged to do a lot of smoothing over to stop them from making an official complaint. At this rate she was worried Murphy wouldn’t even have a job to be concerned about either way by the time the hammer fell on them all.

It had been busy at Arkadia Coffee too, so she hadn’t been able to speak to Marcus as much as she’d like, which made her realise just how much she’d come to value his conversation. Maybe she vented about work a little too much, but he always seemed a genuinely interested and sympathetic listener, and they talked about other things too; books as often as not, swapping recommendations and arguing good naturedly over their opinions of the classics. Marcus credited her for getting him back into a boyhood love of reading, which was probably an exaggeration, but flattering nonetheless. So it was surprisingly disappointing on those days when he was too busy to do much more than smile and wave across the room as Bellamy handed her a coffee. She had managed to meet up a couple more times with Jackson, but now he was in California with his boyfriend – he had even sent her a postcard – and Abby was worried about slipping back into the same lonely malaise she had been mired in before, where all she lived, breathed and thought about was work.

The only bright spot to stave off the stress was that Clarke was home for the summer. Suddenly the house wasn’t so empty anymore; Abby didn’t have to eat alone every evening, she was often woken in the morning by the sound of Clarke clattering about in the kitchen or taking a shower, and she could even forgive the occasional forgotten coffee cup left lying around the place as evidence that their home was once more a shared space.

And Clarke had been making an effort, Abby could tell. In spite of her daughter’s near radio silence over the previous semester, she was making an effort to be around for mealtimes in the evening, curling up on the other end of the couch to watch the occasional TV show together, talking about her college courses, and asking about how things were at Abby’s work, with slightly awkward but apparently genuine interest. It was nice, if a little bittersweet that such small things could make Abby feel so grateful. After Jake’s death the two of them had been close for a time, united in their shared grief, but after those first few months things had shifted little by little, until they seemed to have simply run out of things to say to each other.

Still, they had at least been under the same roof, and after finally having gotten used to it just being the two of them, Clarke suddenly living so far away had been difficult for Abby. She had missed her daughter terribly. She just wished she could believe Clarke felt the same.

And then there was the phone call. It had only been by chance that Abby had overheard it; she had come home from work a little early, since traffic had been good, and presumably Clarke hadn’t heard the door, because as she walked up the stairs to go and take a shower and wash the grime of another scorching summer’s day of her skin, she heard Clarke’s voice floating out from her bedroom, sounding distressed:

“I will tell her. I promise. I _promise_. I just need to find the right time.”

There was a brief silence as Clarke presumably listened to the response on the other end, and then interjected, still sounding upset:

“Yeah, I _know_...it’s just so hard. I wouldn’t even know where to start, you know? But I hate feeling like I’m—”

Unfortunately Abby had by this point reached the creaky stair at the top, and was forced to either make her presence known by stepping on it or admit to herself that she was deliberately trying to listen in on her daughter’s private conversation. She stepped on it very deliberately, feeling guilty even as she did so, and was horribly aware of the sudden immediate curtailment of Clarke’s voice. As she approached Clarke’s room, she saw her daughter sitting on her bed at her laptop, with headphones on. As she saw Abby in the doorway, she looked up and muttered:

“Look, I have to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

She tapped a few buttons on her screen and took her headphones off, looking at Abby expectantly. Abby felt a little awkward, as though she had interrupted for no reason.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I’m just getting in; you can keep on with your conversation.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Clarke. “It was just a girl from my class asking about a project, that’s all. I can speak to her any time.”

It hadn’t sounded like that to Abby at all, and she knew her daughter well enough to see the defensive, guilty look in her eyes. But what could she say? Clarke was entitled to her own personal life, after all.

Abby plastered a careless smile on her face. “So I thought maybe you’d want to go see a movie tomorrow downtown at The Tower theatre?” she said. “They’re showing _Back to the Future_ all week, it’s some kind of anniversary I think.”

It had always been one of Jake’s favourites, an easy choice that they had watched a bunch of times as a family because it didn’t cause an argument. A safe bet, she thought. Clarke blinked at her, looking as though she was having trouble changing mental gears so swiftly from whatever her previous conversation had been.

“Unless you have plans,” Abby added, trying to sound as breezy as possible, and failing utterly.

“No...no, I don’t have plans,” said Clarke. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”

“Great, I’ll meet you there at eight? After my book group finishes.”

“Right.” Clarke smiled. “Cool.”

Abby smiled back, more genuinely this time, though a little niggling voice at the back of her mind told her that there was a time that making plans with her daughter hadn’t felt as fraught as negotiating an international peace treaty.

But still. They were both making an effort, and maybe that was what mattered. Going to see a movie meant they could spend time together that didn’t require any awkward conversation. And afterwards they would have the movie to discuss, maybe over hot cocoa at the kitchen table, like old times. If Clarke was so keen not to talk about her personal life, then Abby would give her something else.

* * *

The next day was a difficult one. Jake had been on Abby’s mind, unshakable, since the moment she woke up, as he often was when she was worried about Clarke. It made her distracted, melancholy and a little angry at herself. She found she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, Murphy-style, at some of the more frustrating dumb customer enquiries she was peppered with throughout a normal day at the library. So much for the bedside manner she prided herself in.

Not trusting herself to stay civil to the more difficult customers today, she spent most of the afternoon trying to avoid interaction with anyone else by filling a few trolleys with books that hadn’t been checked out for a while – just like her, ha – to be withdrawn from stock. But even that ended up being a bust, because her distraction meant she overloaded one side of a trolley and ended up with the whole thing toppling over, spilling books across the floor in a resounding crash.

“ _Damn_ it!”

If the crash had made the browsing public look up, her loud curse elicited a few disapproving tuts and raised eyebrows. Abby ignored them. She felt sweaty and dusty and tense, and suddenly the simple task of clearing up seemed almost overwhelming. She crouched on the floor, trying to breathe evenly, wishing the whole world could just go away for a little while.

The familiar faint creak of her leg brace announced the arrival of Raven, who stopped next to her and leaned against the shelf – crouching not being something she could easily do herself – looking down at Abby with a faint crease between her brows.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, her voice a little gentler than usual. “You seem kind of out of it today.”

“I’m fine,” said Abby, now feeling guilty on top of everything else. She forced a smile. “Just having a bad day. I’ll clear this up.”

Raven gave her a sympathetic look that Abby probably didn’t deserve. “Look, it’s only like twenty minutes until we close up anyway and your book group shows up,” she said, “and Sinclair’s gone home already. I’ll cover you, why don’t you go grab a coffee?” She grinned. “That always cheers you up. Murphy can clear up this mess, he’s done fuck all today.”

“I’ve got it,” said Abby firmly. “Really. I’m just a little distracted. I have plans this evening after the Bookworms meeting. With my _daughter_ ,” she added quickly, seeing Raven’s raised eyebrows, and then made some excuse to head off and serve a customer at the now abandoned front desk to avoid any comments on her rather sad social life.

She felt a little guilty about blowing Raven off, although they didn’t have the kind of close friendship that meant Abby could really confide in her about her worries. She was a good kid, and would probably have been sympathetic, but how could you put that kind of pressure on someone who had enough worries already as it was? Abby was supposed to be the mature presence in the library, the responsible one, the one who was able to hold it together even when things were tough...or at least give a passable impression of someone who was on top of things.

Sometimes Abby thought being a widow was a bit like having a condition that caused chronic pain – not that she’d ever dream of saying as much to Raven, who overcame tremendous physical suffering on a daily basis due to her leg. But the similarities were there nonetheless. Jake’s loss had been with Abby every moment of every day since it happened; on some days just in the background as a barely noticeable ache, on others a terrible, vibrant agony that nearly crippled her. Abby did her best to not let it define her, but it was a part of her, and always would be.

Spending time with Clarke always brought that pain to the surface, which was a terrible thing to think, but something she couldn’t deny. Jake’s absence was always so _palpable_ when they did anything together. And that wasn’t the worst part.

The truth was, Clarke had blamed Abby for a long time for her father’s death. Maybe a part of her still did. It was understandable, part of the grieving process, or at least that’s what the therapist had told Abby. Nothing personal.

She wasn’t so sure. A little part of her always knew that Clarke blamed her because it _was_ her fault, at least partly. Abby was supposed to have been the one who was picking up Clarke and her friend Wells from the airport that day, but she had been so busy at work...there had been an important meeting of the hospital board coming up and she had gotten delayed talking to Doctor Jaha...

It hadn’t crossed Abby’s mind as anything out of the ordinary when she called Jake and asked him to go pick up Clarke and Wells instead. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to do it. Never mind that Jake had been working all day too and was tired, never mind that he had been sick that week, never mind that he always, _always_ agreed to anything to make her life easier, even when he should have just _told_ her that he wasn’t feeling...

Well. It had been an accident, in the end. The roads had been icy anyway and he had lost control of the car and who could say that exactly the same thing wouldn’t have happened had Abby been the one driving?

Clarke, in the back seat sleeping off her jet-lag, escaped with a few scratches and a broken arm. Jake, and Wells – who had been in the passenger seat next to him, keeping him company on the drive like the polite, thoughtful kid he was – both died at the scene.

It was the sort of mundane, self contained little tragedy that Abby, as a doctor, knew played out every day. It didn’t make it easier. And nothing in her and Clarke’s lives had been easy ever since.

Abby forced herself to try and put her morbid thoughts out of her mind, determined to look forward to enjoying some time with her daughter for once without feeling like she was a poor substitute parent for the one Clarke really wanted. It was just a trip to the movies, for goodness sake. This sort of thing used to be _simple._

The Bookworms meeting after the library closed went about as well as could be expected, although Abby was really just waiting for it to be over the whole time. She snapped at Diana Sydney for trying to take over the discussion as usual and then felt guilty about it, because as difficult as Diana could be, it wasn’t very professional or very fair to take out her nerves on the woman. At least the movie theatre wasn’t far from the library, and Abby had enough time to walk there, which helped clear her head. She found Clarke quickly enough in the lobby, and seeing the smile of welcome on her daughter’s face suddenly made the whole day seem worth it.

“Hey,” she said, resisting the urge to hug Clarke – it had only been this morning they had seen each other last, after all, however sentimental she was feeling today.

“Hey mom,” said Clarke. “Good day at work?”

“Same old,” said Abby, mostly for expediency rather than because she actually wanted to be untruthful. “Want to get some popcorn?”

Clarke grinned. “Do you even need to ask? Why do you think I bought our tickets already? Now you have to fork out for the snacks, and I am gonna need at _least_ twenty dollars worth of candy and soda.”

Abby grinned back, feeling the last of her nerves melt away in the face of Clarke’s easy banter. “Lead the way then,” she said. “I have my wallet at the ready. Hey, did you see that little kid dressed like Marty McFly when you came in?”

They chatted happily about nothing as they bought their food and walked into the theatre, and Abby started to feel silly for worrying at all. Clarke really _was_ trying; that much was obvious. Maybe it really was just Abby who was holding onto the past, who had been feeling the awkwardness and distance between them. Clarke was an adult herself now, after all, so perhaps they had just needed a little time to figure out how their relationship would be now that they weren’t living together all the time. A lot of things had changed this year...perhaps this could change for the better too.

The movie was as fun as Abby had remembered, and the crowd was gossiping happily as they streamed out of the screen, and she and Clarke were allowing themselves to be vaguely herded towards the exit when Abby heard a shout.

“Hey, Abby!”

Abby grinned instinctively at hearing Octavia’s strident voice across the crowded lobby, and turned without quite realising what it might mean. The girl appeared a few moments later, jostling through the other patrons. She had obviously come out with them; she was clutching a scrunched up bag of mostly finished popcorn.

“Have you guys just come out too?” asked Octavia. “We could have sat together. It was good, right? I’ve never seen it before.”

“You’ve never seen _Back to the Future?_ ” said Clarke incredulously, her surprise apparently overcoming the fact that she had no idea who this person was.

Octavia shrugged. “Nah, my brother’s always banging on about how good it is, so I kind of avoided it on principle. I hate when he’s right.”

“Are you here by yourself?” asked Abby, glancing around to see if Bellamy was in evidence, or indeed Jasper and Monty.

“No, Kane’s just in the bathroom,” said Octavia breezily.

Even as she said it, the man in question appeared, weaving through the mingling crowds towards them. For the first time since they had met, Abby felt an unpleasant sinking feeling in her chest as he approached. He was dressed a little more casually than he ever was at the coffee place, wearing jeans and a faded grey t-shirt rather than the shirt and pants she was used to. She could only imagine what Clarke must be thinking as she watched an attractive man of around her mother’s age come bounding up to them like an eager puppy, looking nothing less than delighted to see them.

“What a coincidence!” Marcus said cheerfully, by way of greeting. “Have you just come out of _Back to the Future_ too? I guess we must have been in the same screen. I didn’t even see you.”

“We came in a little late,” said Abby. “We were at the back.”

“Bookworms overran tonight?” He grinned. “Let me guess – Diana had opinions?”

Abby smiled vaguely, trying not to seem tense, and Marcus, reading her discomfort immediately, turned to her daughter with a warm, genuine smile of his own. “Sorry to butt in. You must be Clarke. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Clarke looked slightly taken aback by this, as well she might, hearing that statement from a complete stranger. Abby tried not to wince.

“Clarke, this is Marcus,” she cut in awkwardly. “He’s uh...a friend.”

“You work at the library?” asked Clarke.

“No, at the coffee place around the corner,” said Marcus. His voice was casual, but Abby knew him well enough to see in his eyes that he suddenly realised he was on treacherous ground. “Your mom is one of my regulars,” he said, presumably hoping to make their relationship sound as professional as possible.

“Hey, we were going to go meet Bellamy and get a drink and nachos at the place across the road,” said Octavia, obviously unaware of any awkwardness. “Want to come?”

“Thanks, but we should be getting back,” said Abby, glancing sideways at Clarke, whose face was now almost totally expressionless.

“But—” said Octavia, and Marcus hastily cut in:

“No problem, maybe another time. Nice to meet you, Clarke.”

Clarke managed a brief nod, and Abby watched helplessly as Marcus all but steered Octavia away towards the exit. After a few moments, Clarke said:

“Should we go then?”

“What? Oh...yeah, of course.”

They walked back to the car in total silence, Abby desperately trying to think of any of the things she had meant to talk about with Clarke after the movie was over, trying to think of a single goddamn piece of small-talk to make. They got in the car without exchanging a word, and Abby had pulled out of the parking lot and they were on the road back home before Clarke finally spoke.

“So how long have you been seeing that guy?” she said, in a tone of very forced calm.

Abby felt a traitorous blush rise to her face. Thank goodness it was dark. “I’m not,” she said. “He works at the place where I get my coffee every day, that’s all. We exchange a few words sometimes.” Glancing sideways and seeing the unconvinced look on Clarke’s face she added: “Honey, I’m not dating anyone. I promise I would tell you if I was.”

“You don’t have to.” Now Clarke’s voice was unreadable. “We’re both adults, Mom. You don’t have to tell me everything.”

“But I _would._ And I’m not. Marcus is just a friend.”

Clarke sighed. “Right.”

“I would never—”

“Its _fine_ , Mom,” snapped Clarke. “Look, just...forget it, okay?”

They spent the rest of the ride home in deeply uncomfortable silence, and when they got back home Clarke muttered a stiff ‘goodnight’ and immediately retreated to her room.

Abby felt embarrassed and guilty and unsure what to do. In a TV show or a book, a good mom would wait for ten minutes to give Clarke a chance to cool off, then go and quietly knock on her bedroom door so that they could sit the edge of her bed and have a heart to heart. But Abby had no idea where she would even start. Clarke had made it clear that she wasn’t interested in hearing anything her mom had to say, and wouldn’t believe it if she did. And they had never been that good at talking to each other, even when Jake had been alive.

So Abby just hovered vaguely near the bottom of the stairs for a while, arguing internally with herself, and then gave up. She resisted the urge to go into the kitchen and pour herself a drink – her father had been a surgeon who too often used the bottle as a buffer between himself and the hard truths of the world, and Abby had been terrified of going down the same path when she had lost Jake, and tried to make it a personal rule not to drink when she was upset.

It was hard, sometimes. Abby felt more sympathy with her father now than she ever had while he had been alive. Perhaps that was something that just happened to everyone when they got older and became parents themselves.

Instead she walked over to the mantelpiece in the lounge as she had done many times before, to the picture that stood there in pride of place, carefully free of a single speck of dust. In a silver frame, the photograph showed a little blonde girl, no more than six years old, standing on the beach and grinning from ear to ear, hand in hand with her dad. Abby wasn’t in it – she had been the one taking the picture.

“Jake...” she said quietly, just to hear his name out loud. She reached out and brushed a finger gently against the image of his face, static and unseeing. Caught forever on the edge of a laugh.

“I’m not as good at this as you were,” she whispered.

She felt like she might cry, half _wanted_ to, but the tears wouldn’t come. There had been a time when she cried herself to sleep almost every night, when it felt as though her body was hardly strong enough to contain the immensity of her grief, and it would burst out of her at the most unexpected times.

Now it just felt like there was a blank, hollow place where the pain should be, and in a way that was even worse. The pain had been something to hold onto, at least. Now Abby was afraid sometimes that grief had been replaced with the _memory_ of grief, obligation rather than genuine feeling. It made her feel sick and guilty; the notion that in any way the tragedy of Jake’s death was starting to fade, when the very _least_ she owed him was to feel it. To _never_ stop feeling it.

She took a deep shuddering breath and then nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone buzzed in her pocket, reality intruding on her bleak thoughts. She pulled it out to see a new text from Marcus. Abby couldn’t even remember now when they had exchanged numbers, or what excuse they had found to do so, but he was a very occasional texter, self-professed Luddite that he was. He only ever messaged her when it was something important. This time was no exception:

_> >Sorry. I really fucked up._

It made Abby smile, just for a moment. She couldn’t imagine Marcus actually swearing in real life. He was always so mild and reserved. Though it was humiliating to know that he had obviously quickly figured out why Clarke seeing her mom friendly with a strange man might be difficult.

_> >It’s okay, _she texted back, glad that he couldn’t see her face for this conversation. _Not your fault. It’s complicated._

_> >Are you alright?_

Abby stared at the words for a long time. She had no idea how to respond, and even less idea what the honest answer to that question _was_. In the end, she simply typed the words that she had said so many times over the last few years in reply to the familiar inquiry:

_> >I’m fine, don’t worry about it_

There was no response, and she didn’t know how to feel about that either. Either Marcus had decided to take her words at face value and recognise the dismissal, or he was worried about further overstepping the strange, invisible line they seemed to have drawn together; the point beyond which their relationship couldn’t go.

Their relationship. Even using the word in her own head felt dishonest.

Abby went to bed, hoping that sleep at least would give her some respite from her own troubled thoughts. But she slept fitfully, and when she dreamed it was of strong, comforting arms holding her, the warm presence of a body curled around her own, a soft voice murmuring words of affection and reassurance into her ear, lips brushing her skin.

She woke in the small hours of the morning to find the bed too big and too empty, and went downstairs to sleep on the couch; something she hadn’t done since the first few weeks after Jake was gone. She put the TV on mute for company and curled up under the blanket, listening to the faint hum of traffic outside and trying to convince herself that it was Jake’s voice she had been dreaming of.

* * *

Marcus was in trouble.

What had started as a harmless crush had turned into something far more concerning. He was uncomfortably aware that he was rapidly flying far past the point of no return when it came to his feelings for Abby.

The truth was...the truth was that he was _hopelessly_ infatuated with her, smitten in a way he couldn’t remember being with anyone since he was a teenager. He had simply never met anyone like Abby Griffin before. She was briskly intelligent and wryly funny, passionate and kind and unexpected. She _cared_ about things, about other people, in way that was stubborn and sincere and remarkably selfless. She seemed, for some inexplicable reason, to care about _him_ , to genuinely enjoy his company and value his opinions. And to top it all off she was very, _very_ attrctive.

No, the word didn’t do her justice. Abby was _gorgeous_ , stunning, breathtakingly lovely. She was...the word that always came to mind was ‘radiant’, which Marcus had only ever heard used to describe brides on their wedding day, but somehow it was how Abby always looked to him. Whenever she came into the coffee house she seemed to bring the sun with her; he felt lighter after speaking with her, even just exchanging a few words of small-talk. Seeing her always put a smile on his face, something which Octavia teased him about mercilessly.

Marcus had never been in this position before. There had been women before, of course, but not for a long time, not since he had been a very different person. He had finally gotten his life in some semblance of order after...everything that had happened, and yes, perhaps money was sometimes tight, and yes his social life consisted of two people young enough to be his kids who technically he paid to be around, and yes he went home every night to his big empty house and went to bed early with a book because he still barely knew what to do with himself when he wasn’t working, but...

It had been stable, at least. Content enough. Not perfect, but a decent life, one he had gotten used to and made his peace with. And then Abby Griffin had strolled into Arkadia Coffee, charming and beautiful and brilliant, and somehow turned everything upside down.

Marcus didn’t know what to do about it. If he _should_ do something about it, if she _wanted_ him to something about it...

What he really wanted was to kiss her. He wasn’t usually given to daydreaming, but the thought kept intruding on his mind whenever he saw her now – it was becoming a serious problem. One day he felt like he might just crack; sweep her into his arms and cover her sweet, lovely mouth with his own and then...where would he be? In even deeper trouble, probably.

Of course he also wanted to do _more_ than just kiss her. _Those_ fantasies he was very careful not to even let himself think about while Abby was around, although he’d had some trouble when she came in the morning after a particularly vivid dream about the two of them on the countertop of the shop, indulging in – he had considered with hindsight – some extremely unhygienic behaviour.

He’d hardly been able to meet her eyes that day, and he had probably confused her with his terse replies to her conversation. His embarrassment had faded fairly quickly as he reasoned himself into the acceptance that he couldn’t actually _control_ the images his subconscious mind presented him with, and therefore shouldn’t feel guilty about them, but still...dreams of that kind continued to torture him with concerning regularity.

He felt like a fool around her, horribly aware that he always ended up talking too much, smiling too wide, standing too close. And yet in spite of how humiliating it all should have been, he found he was happy too – happier than he could remember being for a long time.

And then there was Clarke.

Abby’s daughter had come into Arkadia coffee the day after their awkward meeting at the movie theatre, bursting in through the door like an angry blonde hurricane, ignoring the scandalised looks of the customers as she strode up to jab an accusing finger in Marcus’ face.

“You’d better be so serious about this, Kane,” she had said, with absolutely no introduction whatsoever. “I mean it. You’d better be _so fucking serious_.”

And, without waiting for a response, she had turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving both Marcus and Bellamy gaping at the door, lost for words.

He hadn’t told Abby about the encounter. It didn’t seem like something she was supposed to know about. But it was pretty obvious that Clarke had made certain assumptions, and Marcus was uncomfortably aware that she wasn’t that far off the mark.

Today, although she had been on his mind, he hadn’t seen Abby at all, which was to be expected for a Sunday when the library was closed. In fact it had been a quiet day all round; the late summer heat-wave had become almost unbearable, and the whole city was panting in the close, sticky heat. Most people seemed to have decided to stay at home in their cooler houses, or else head out to sunbathe in the park, so it had been a lazy kind of day at Arkadia Coffee. They always closed early on Sundays anyway, at 2pm. Perhaps it was a little old fashioned, and it meant they lost the income from the afternoon post-shopping coffee crowd, but Marcus felt his mother would have approved of them at least keeping part of the day as a day of rest, and it was nice to have one afternoon off every week. His regular customers were used to it by now, and he figured as a small business owner he was entitled to a few quirks.

So at about ten minutes past two, he and Octavia were almost done closing up for the day, though not in any particular rush, the oppressive heat of the past few weeks having made everyone a little slower than usual. Besides, Arkadia Coffee was air conditioned, so every moment spent here was another moment putting off having to step outside. Bellamy had the day off. Octavia was listlessly cleaning the counter with one hand and scrolling through her phone with the other, as Marcus went round with the stepladder and watered the several new ferns and succulents that now hung from the ceiling in what Octavia had insisted were very ‘on trend’ hanging glass planters. They looked nice enough, and Marcus was happy to add to the greenery around the place, something he somewhat prided himself on, but they were a pain in the ass to water, especially in the summer

The new plants were something of a concession to Octavia as it was – they were still engaged in a friendly war over getting wifi for the shop, and she kept trying to institute an official hashtag for Instagram, whatever that meant.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked her, climbing up the stepladder to finally reach the most elusive hanging fern.

“Not much,” said Octavia, not looking up from her phone. “I’m going to visit Mom’s grave with Bellamy.”

“Ah.” Marcus wasn’t sure what else to say to that. He always felt a little awkward when Octavia and Bellamy talked about their mother. She had died before he had ever met the two of them, and it felt strange to him to think of this person that was such a big part of their lives, and yet a complete stranger to him. He had gleaned only vague impressions of her here and there from things they had said, and all of those things seemed to be contradictory; she was kind and loving...she was strict and judgemental. She was attentive to their needs and always put them first...she had left them to basically raise themselves even when she _was_ alive. She was always smiling and joining in their games...she was always telling them to grow up and see the harsh realities of the ‘real world’.

It would have made more sense to him if these things – sometimes said in passing, sometimes shouted in anger during the midst of heated sibling arguments – were all from one or the other of the Blakes. If Bellamy had only positive things to say about their mother and Octavia only negative, he could have put it down to preferential treatment of one child. But both brother and sister seemed to have equally conflicting views of Aurora Blake. The only thing they seemed to agree on was that they missed her terribly.

It was ridiculous, but in a strange way it always made him feel a little jealous.

“Do you need a ride back?” he asked casually, pinching some dead leaves off a fern. “I can come and pick you up if you want.”

“No, that’s okay,” said Octavia. “I’m going to meet Lincoln after.”

Marcus cast her a sideways glance. “You’re pretty serious about him, aren’t you?”

Octavia groaned, finally looking up from her phone. “Oh god, really? We’re having this conversation?”

“What conversation?” Marcus said innocently. “I was just making an observation.”

“I know you met him, you know,” said Octavia. “He told me.”

“Did he tell you I asked him out to dinner?”

“Yes. And I told him you flirt with all your customers, so he shouldn’t read anything into it.”

Marcus grinned. He was beginning to enjoy himself. It made a nice change to be able to tease Octavia about her love life for once. “For what it’s worth, I approve of Lincoln,” he said. “He seems like a—”

“If you say ‘fine young man’ or anything like that,” said Octavia. “I swear I will throw this dishcloth at you.”

Marcus laughed. “Alright,” he said. “Then I officially have no opinion on your boyfriend.”

He half expected Octavia to object to the term , but instead she just rolled her eyes, a smile playing around the corner of her mouth as she continued cleaning the counter aggressively.

A soft rapping on the glass door made Marcus turn, annoyed at the inevitable but still frustrating phenomenon of yet another member of the public who thought a ‘closed’ sign applied to everyone except themselves. But his irritation immediately faded when he recognised Abby peering inside and giving him a self-conscious little wave. He hopped off the stepladder and went to open the door and let her in, trying to control his curiosity about why she was here after closing time.

He had to exercise some self control over thoughts of a rather different nature when he locked the door behind Abby and finally noticed what she wearing. In concession to the summer heat her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she was wearing cut-off jeans and a little white tank top. It had lace edging around the neckline and he could just faintly see the outline of her bra through the light material, a fact which he immediately tried in vain to un-notice.

“I know I’m too late,” Abby said, blissfully unaware of his internal struggles. Don’t worry, I’m not here as a customer. Hi Octavia.”

“Hi,” said Octavia. She looked at Abby, then Marcus, then put down the cloth she was holding. “I’m just gonna go and...” she said vaguely, and then disappeared out through the door to the back room with what Marcus considered a surprising amount of tact, if not subtlety. He turned back to Abby and tried to sound casual:

“I thought the library was closed on Sundays?”

“It is,” said Abby. “Actually I was hoping to see Bellamy.”

Well that was unexpected. “Really?”

Abby cocked her head to the side. “He didn’t tell you?” Marcus must have looked nonplussed, because she smiled and said: “Well I don’t want to betray any secrets but you’d find out sooner or later anyway – we’ve organised a public reading event at the library for Bellamy’s book. You know...’meet the new, upcoming author’ kind of thing? Since it’s going to be published soon.”

Marcus blinked at her, trying to absorb this new information. Of course he had known about Bellamy’s book – he had been working on it almost as long as Marcus had known him, and had been quietly ecstatic when a small independent publisher had finally accepted it for publication. But he was surprised that Bellamy had told Abby about it, since he had always been self-effacing to the point of shyness about sharing it with people before. Even Marcus had only read parts; he knew it was based loosely on the Greek myth of Orpheus going to the underworld to save his love Eurydice, only in Bellamy’s story the main character was a teenage girl who journeyed to the underworld to save her brother. It was obviously a very personal story for him – his and Octavia’s relationship was on every page.

Marcus felt a bit guilty, suddenly, for having been so wrapped up in his own problems lately. As reserved as Bellamy could be sometimes, he should have known about this. Bellamy had a lot of talent, and he’d always tried to support it in any way he could, not just by providing him with a steady wage. He and Octavia were the closest thing to family Marcus had.

“That’s...great,” he said, trying to sound casual. “That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s very kind of him to do it,” replied Abby easily. “He’ll be the one doing all the work. And I’m looking forward to hearing some of his book. It’s next Friday, at 7:00pm, by the way.” She had a kind look in her eyes, as though she knew full well that Marcus hadn’t had any idea about this, _and_ that he was feeling guilty about it. God, she knew him far too well for someone who hadn’t known him for very long. “I’m sure he’d want you to be there,” she added, managing very deftly not to make it sound accusatory.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” said Marcus, smiling.

Abby smiled back. “Well Raven and I will be there from closing time to when the event starts, as it happens, because someone’s got to stay in the library to lock up afterwards and it’s not really worth going home and then coming back. We were planning to get pizza delivered. Why don’t you come and keep us company?”

“Oh, I...If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I guess you won’t have time to go home and come back after closing up here anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” said Marcus. He suddenly felt a little shy, inordinately pleased that Abby had found it so easy to make plans for meeting him outside of work. “I mean...I’ll see you before then, obviously,” he amended.

“Can you ask Bellamy to stop by the library when he gets the chance though?” said Abby. “We still need to work out a few details.”

“Of course.”

“Great.” She squinted at him suddenly. “Oh, you have plant in your hair,” she said. “Hang on...”

Before he had a chance to do anything, she stepped forward and reached up her hand, gently turning his head with her fingertips on his jaw. Marcus swallowed thickly, exquisitely aware of how close she was, of her face tilted up toward his own, of how unbearably warm the room suddenly felt.

He felt Abby hand gently brush his hair, and then she stepped back abruptly.

“Got it,” she said, somewhat redundantly, holding up a scrap of fern frond clutched between her fingers. Her cheeks looked a little pink, though perhaps it was just the heat. “I’ll uh...I’ll go and let you lock up,” she said.

Marcus didn’t trust himself to make any kind of coherent reply, and luckily Abby didn’t seem to need one, as she quickly turned and headed out of the door with such speed that the open/closed sign swung crazily from its hook as she breezed past.

Marcus stared after her as she walked down the street and out of sight, all thoughts of Bellamy and his book forgotten, cursing himself for being such an idiot. He was a grown man, for god’s sake; he shouldn’t be rendered incoherent with lust at the sight of a woman’s bare shoulders.

_Abby’s_ bare shoulders. Abby’s smooth, delicate skin, dusted with faint freckles where the sun had touched her; the graceful lines of Abby’s collarbone, the tiny bead of sweat that rolled down the side of Abby’s neck to the hollow of her throat, the soft curve of her breasts, the spot where her pulse beat beneath her skin that would feel so warm and so _good_ against his lips...

One of these days, Marcus decided, he was going to take Bellamy’s advice and find a bucket of very cold water to pour over himself.


End file.
